Suburban Life
by Nancy Kaminski
Summary: How is a mortal Nick going to adjust to life in the suburbs?


This story is in honor of Susan Garrett's birthday on August 11. Her wonderful   
stories have given me a great deal of pleasure since I discovered FKFIC-L.   
Thank you, Susan, happy birthday and many more!   
  
Legal stuff: The characters in this story belong to TPTB. You know who you   
are. Thanks for letting me play with them!   
  
This is the first piece of fiction I have ever written, unless you count that user's   
manual I wrote for the (nameless company's) (nameless gizmo) that was still in   
development at the time... Tech writers don't usually get to write anything   
enclosed in quotation marks, so if the dialog sounds funny it's because I'm more   
accustomed to writing procedures.   
  
At any rate, I throw myself on your collective mercy. I'll read and respond to   
any comments you send my way, although I'm not going to guarantee that I'll   
pay attention to them. I'm a tender flower, so please be kind.   
  
I don't believe in the Third Season, so I've ignored it completely. This takes   
place sometime after the Second Season in that wonderful Never-Never Land   
where everyone's alive and anything is possible.   
  
  
  
Suburban Life   
  
by Nancy Kaminski   
  
  
"When this old world starts getting me down   
And people are just too much for me to face   
I climb way up to the top of the stairs   
And all my cares just drift out into space...   
  
On the roof it's peaceful as can be   
And all the world below can't bother me   
Up on the roof..."   
  
--The Drifters   
  
  
It was six months "A.M." as Nick referred to his cure. "After the Miracle".   
After they were certain the cure was actually a cure, and Nick and Nat had   
spent a sun-drenched month in the Caribbean doing all the things they had   
longed to do for four years.   
  
To no one's surprise at the precinct, when they returned from vacation they   
announced they had gotten married in Nassau.   
  
Two months after their marriage, Nick proposed that they move out of the city.   
Nat was somewhat taken aback. "What about the loft?" she asked Nick, looking   
around. The loft was still forboding, but not as gloomy as it had been. For one   
thing, the steel shutters over the windows were gone, replaced by curtains. Nat   
had been making plans for redecorating the place completely. "It's certainly big   
enough to start a family..."   
  
Nick shook his head. "I've lived in cities because it's easier to blend into the   
crowd. To be just another anonymous face. You can't do that in a neighborhood   
where you're expected to know your neighbors. I don't have to be anonymous   
anymore. I don't want to be." He grinned that boyish grin Natalie loved so   
much, reached across the dinner table and took her hand. "Remember, I was   
raised on a farm. Okay, in a manor house with serfs doing all the work, but   
basically a farm. It would be nice to own a little piece of land to call our own.   
And don't you think Sidney would like a garden to stalk around, instead of   
being cooped up all day?"   
  
"Well, let me think about it..."   
  
"Think about it, but say yes."   
  
And Natalie said yes.   
  
  
  
They found a house that could reasonably be afforded by a couple making their   
combined salaries. No one in the department had to know Nick paid for it in   
cash. It was located in an older suburb with tree-lined streets, solid and   
unassuming single family houses and plenty of kids. It was an easy commute   
for them, just 20 minutes on the freeway. The house itself was 30 years old, two   
stories and a basement with a detached double garage, just beginning to need   
some upkeep. The yard was a mess, with a few overgrown gardens and lots of   
untrimmed bushes.   
  
"Okay, farm boy, let's see you do yard work." Natalie said as they surveyed their   
new kingdom the day after the Big Move. "What do you know about mowing,   
trimming, painting, weeding and all those other skills you need to survive in   
the burbs? No serfs here, remember."   
  
Nick smiled gamely and gave her a hug. "How hard can it be? I've been   
watching 'This Old House' ever since it started."   
  
"Yeah, sure. Just remember, we don't have Norm here either. Keep away from   
the power tools for a while--I don't want to lose you to a Skil saw just yet."   
  
"Don't worry, I'll be careful. And besides, I can always ask Schanke. He'd love   
to be able to show me how to do something. I can see it now." Nick made an   
extravagant gesture. "The two of us in the garage, surrounded by disassembled   
machinery, drinking beers, listening to the ball game on the radio and   
complaining about the old lady..."   
  
Nat just rolled her eyes. "Just don't expect your old lady to get you the beers."   
  
"I'll just get an old refrigerator and install a keg, right in the garage."   
  
Nat laughed. "And don't forget the old sofa. Ya gotta have a ratty old sofa to sit   
on while while you drink the beers and BS with the guys."   
  
Nick put his arm around her waist and squeezed. "It's gonna be great. You'll   
see."   
  
And so, six months A.M., the adventure began.   
  
  
  
Nick threw himself into suburban life with his usual enthusiasm for a new   
experience.   
  
The house's previous owner had moved into an apartment so he included all the   
contents of the garage in the purchase price of the house. Nick found he was the   
proud owner of a small noisy lawn mower, various shovels, rakes and hoes, an   
edger, a weeder, a cultivator, two ladders, an assortment of hand tools and a   
truly ancient snow blower. A series of shelves at the back of the garage held   
dusty boxes of screws and nails, a small pile of shingles, stacks of clay   
flowerpots, and opened cans of unidentifiable substances that smelled nasty and   
looked worse. A scarred workbench covered in paint drips completed the   
picture.   
  
Nick became obscessed with the lawn. He mowed it; he edged, reseeded,   
weeded, watered, fertilized and fussed at it until through sheer exhaustion it   
succumbed to his ministrations and became a velvety green expanse of   
perfection.   
  
He had less success with the flower beds. Nat had admitted that when she was   
growing up she always had a garden in her back yard, and had missed growing   
flowers in her years in an apartment. She let Nick do the hard work of getting   
the beds ready to plant and then carefully put in an assortment of flower seeds.   
  
Two weeks after the seeds had germinated Nat took a break from repainting the   
bathroom and went outside to see what Nick was up to. She found him kneeling   
in the largest of the flower gardens with a basket full of limp greenery next to   
him and Sidney watching from a respectful distance.   
  
He sat back on his heels and smiled up at her. "Looks pretty good, doesn't it?   
You wouldn't believe how many weeds were in here..." His smile faded as he   
took in her horrified expression. "Nat, what's wrong?" He looked around in   
confusion. "Have I done something wrong?"   
  
Unfortunately, in Nick's limited gardening experience, flowers were always   
planted in rows. Unable to distinguish the flower seedlings from weeds, he had   
decided to pull out anything that wasn't in a line.   
  
What he didn't know was that Nat had broadcast her flower seeds for a more   
"natural" look, so any rows were completely accidental.   
  
After taking a very deep breath, Nat carefully explained to her confused   
helpmate that he had removed 75% of her flowers. She forgave him only after   
he went to a nursery, bought flats of annuals and planted them under her direct   
supervision. She then banned him from weeding anything that wasn't a   
dandelion, on the theory that even Nick couldn't miss the large yellow flowers   
and jagged leaves that distinguished them from other plants.   
  
  
  
Several weeks after the Flower Incident Nat announced, "The gutters need   
cleaning."   
  
"What do you mean, need cleaning'?" Nick peered up at the edge of the roof in   
the late afternoon sunlight. "They look okay to me."   
  
"Didn't you notice the water pouring off the roof during the last rain storm?   
That means it's not going down the downspout, which means the gutters are   
clogged. Leaves and stuff. You have to go up there and scoop the crud out so   
the water goes down."   
  
"Doesn't sound too hard. I can probably get at least this side of the house done   
before dinner. Besides, this'll give me a chance to try out the extension ladder."   
Nick headed for the garage and another suburban experience. Natalie, shaking   
her head and smiling at his enthusiasm, went inside to start making dinner.   
  
After figuring out how to extend it ("Oh--pull the rope, get the hooks to hook   
over the rungs...") Nick carefully propped the aluminum ladder against the   
back of the house and started climbing. The ladder seemed awfully flimsy and   
bouncy, but it held. He reached the top and levered himself onto the roof,   
pausing on his hands and knees as he looked along the length of the now-  
revealed gutter. Yep, he thought, Nat was right. It's full of crud. I'll just scoop it   
out and throw it on the ground...I can rake up the crud later...can't have that   
stuff on my lawn... He looked down at the ground and froze. His surroundings   
whirled alarmingly. The roof seemed to waver and tilt. With a strangled cry he   
flattened himself against the gritty shingles. He knew if he moved a muscle he   
would fall.   
  
Nick lay there frozen in fear, unable to move. And for the first time in a six   
months, he had a flashback.   
  
  
  
Brabant, 1208   
  
It was a fine spring day, and young Master Nicolas and Mistress Fleur were in   
the manor's kitchen garden playing with Fleur's kitten and Nicolas' puppy.   
They were temporarily free of their nurse's supervision and their lessons and   
were chasing each other around the garden and making quite a bit of noise. The   
servants working at their tasks smiled indulgently at the two bright children, so   
healthy and untouched by the cares that were the servants' lot.   
  
Nicolas's puppy, a gangly hunting dog with flopping ears and paws far too   
large for his frame, pounced after Fleur's small white kitten. The kitten shot off   
and dashed up an apple tree in her panic, hiding among the mist of white   
blossoms in the branches.   
  
"Oh, Nicki!" wailed Fleur, chasing after the kitten. "See what your horrible dog   
has done! We'll never get Blanchette back now." and burst into tears.   
  
"Shhhh, Fleur." Nicolas knelt by his little sister. "He didn't mean it. He was   
only playing. I'll rescue Blanchette for you." He kissed his sister's tears away   
and looked up at the apple tree. Yes, he could see the small white form huddled   
in the branches, only about 15 feet up the tree. The tree had convenient   
branches for climbing, and he started up.   
  
Nicolas reached the kitten and managed to grasp it around its small middle,   
clinging to the tree with his other hand. Now all he had to do was get down.   
The kitten squirmed in his grasp, and he tried to change his grip on the tiny   
creature. While he shifted his position he glanced down at Fleur, intended to   
reassure her that the kitten was all right. He saw her anxious face peering up at   
him; the distance to the ground seemed enormous. The world whirled around   
him, and all he could do was cling to the tree trunk with his arms and legs. He   
was unable to move.   
  
"Nicki! Come down!"called Fleur.   
  
"I...can't." Nicolas was almost in tears. "I'm going to fall..." He tightened his   
grip on the tree and closed his eyes.   
  
Fleur burst into tears. Marie, the cook's helper, looked up from where she was   
cutting some herbs. "Mistress, what's wrong?!" she called as she dropped her   
knife and basket and hurried to the small girl's side.   
  
Fleur could only point mutely into the tree. Peering up, Marie saw her young   
master, face as white as snow, clinging to the tree. "Come down, Master   
Nicolas!" she called. Nicolas could only shake his head and clutch the tree   
trunk more tightly.   
  
Marie ran off to get help. When she came back, she had the children's nurse   
and Jean the smithy with her. Jean, a large burly man, sweaty and dirt-streaked   
from working at the forge, easily climbed the tree and unceremoniously grasped   
the boy around the middle as Nicolas had grasped the kitten. He pulled boy and   
kitten free of the tree trunk and clambered to the ground hauling his young   
master with him.   
  
As soon as Jean let him go, Nicolas sank to the ground, his knees too weak to   
hold him. "Your pardon, Master Nicolas, but it seemed not the moment for   
gentleness." Jean apologized. "Where are you hurt?"   
  
Nicolas shook his head, ashamed of his fear. "I'm not hurt...I just could not   
move...the height seemed too great and I thought I would fall..." He looked   
pleadingly at his recuers, his face tear-streaked and distraught. "Please do not   
tell anyone of this!"   
  
They all promised to keep silent, although his nurse looked at him with   
disapproval and scolded him later for acting foolishly. But of course the story   
spread, because you can't keep the servants from gossiping to each other, and   
servant's gossip can be overheard...   
  
Nicolas' cousins Gaston and Pierre, who took lessons from the priest with him,   
began teasing him about it. "Oh, Nicolas, better not ride a tall horse--you might   
fall off!" "Nicolas, let's go tree-climbing!" and life was unbearable for a while.   
  
He did his best to forget about it, and never again attempted to climb anything   
but stairs. Until now.   
  
  
  
Natalie came out to call Nick in to dinner and to see how the latest adventure   
was progressing. There was the ladder, but she couldn't see Nick on the roof.   
"Nick, where are you?" she called, craning her head and moving back for a   
better look.   
  
"Nat, help." came a small, strangled voice. "I'm stuck."   
  
"You're what?! What do you mean, you're stuck?"   
  
Again the strangled voice. "I can't move. I didn't remember I'm afraid of   
heights until I got up here."   
  
Nat clambered up the ladder. When her head poked over the edge of the roof   
she observed her husband spreadeagled on the roof, seemingly trying to become   
part of the shingles. His face was as white as it had been when he'd been a   
vampire. His eyes were closed. "How can you be afraid of heights?" she asked   
conversationally. "For God's sake, you flew for almost 800 years. Without a   
plane."   
  
"That's different." He kept his eyes closed.   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"Yeah. I couldn't fall. And if I did, I couldn't die." He opened his eyes and   
looked at her pleadingly. "Will you get me down from here?"   
  
Nat couldn't help it. She giggled. "This is too much. An ex-flying undead   
creature of the night afraid of heights." The giggles turned into full-blown   
laughter. She hid her face in her hands and laughed. The ladder bounced   
alarmingly under her shaking body.   
  
"Nat! This isn't funny! GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!"   
  
Gulping a few times, Nat struggled to put on a serious face. "I'm sorry, Nick. I   
didn't mean to laugh." Her mouth twitched and she cleared her throat. "Okay.   
I'll call Rescue. They can get you down with a cherrypicker or something."   
  
"Oh, God, no...the whole department'll hear about it. I couldn't take it. They'll   
never let me hear the end of it. Just think how Schanke will carry on. There's   
got to be another way. How about the neighbors?"   
  
Nat looked at the surrounding houses. "Well, everyone around us is at their   
cabin. The Larkins, the Korzenowskis, the Johnsons, that about does it. They're   
all gone for the weekend." Nat thought a minute, then glanced at the horizon.   
"Listen, the sun's almost down. How about..." she hesitated. She hated to even   
mention his name. "How about if I call Lacroix? He'd probably love to see you   
like this, and he's not likely to blab to your cop friends. It's not like he has any   
hold over you any more, and..." Her voice trailed off. Nick looked whiter, if that   
were possible. "Forget it. I'll think of something else."   
  
But she couldn't, and in the end she went inside to make the call.   
  
  
  
Fifteen minutes later, there came a knock at the front door. When Nat opened   
it, he was there. Tall, forbidding, dressed in his customary black. "Dr. Lambert.   
Or should I say, Dr. Knight?" He didn't wait for her answer. "You said there   
was an emergency concerning Nicholas?"   
  
She said, "Yes, there's a problem." and gestured for him to enter. It was the   
first time he had visited Nick and Nat's new house--they had studiously avoided   
contact with Nick's former "family" after the cure. Lacroix looked around with   
a faint aura of disapproval at the decor. "How very--suburban. Have you   
purchased a minivan yet?"   
  
Nat smiled sweetly. "Not until we have our allotment of 2.4 children and a   
golden retriever." Lacroix merely raised an eyebrow. She lead him through the   
kitchen to the back door. Lacroix made a face at the smell of the porkchops in   
the oven.   
  
"So, where is Nicholas? And what is the emergency?"   
  
"You'll see. Come out to the back yard." Nat felt the giggles coming on again.   
Once they were outside she lead him to the ladder and gestured upwards.   
"Nick's stuck on the roof." The giggles erupted. "He's afraid of heights, and   
can't get down." she gasped, flapping her hand helplessly at the ladder. "He was   
cleaning the gutters..." She had to sit down on the back steps and bent forward,   
whooping with laughter.   
  
When she regained her breath, she said, "It would be too embarrassing to call   
the Rescue Squad. So I thought you could just fly him down."   
  
"Oh, really? And why should I want to spare Nicholas embarrassment, after all   
the pain he has caused me?" Lacroix's impassive face loomed over her. "What   
is in it for me?"   
  
From the roof came Nick's voice. "Nat? Is he here?" Lacroix looked upward in   
disbelief at the wan sound.   
  
Natalie stood up and, grasping his sleeve, drew him close. She whispered,   
"Wouldn't you like at least something you can tease him about in years to   
come? I figured you might, well, get a kick out of this." She looked up at his   
bemused face. "Oh, pleeeease?" she wheedled, like a child begging for a treat.   
  
He straightened up to his full height. "Oh, very well." He looked down at   
Natalie with a frown. "But do not assume you can call on me like some kind of   
Vampire 911. This will be the first, and last, time I will rescue Nicholas from   
his foolishness--as a mortal. I had to do it often enough when he was immortal,   
and I am thoroughly tired of it."   
  
With a whoosh, he levitated up to the roof. Natalie could hear low voices, one   
of which was squeaking in panic. In a minute, Lacroix was back on the ground,   
Nicholas firmly in his arms.   
  
Lacroix released Nick from his cool grasp. He stumbled forward a few steps,   
then collapsed on the back steps in the circle of porchlight, breathing heavily.   
Looking up at his former master, he grudgingly said, "Thanks, Lacroix."   
  
Pointing a warning finger at Nick, Lacroix intoned "DO NOT DO THIS   
AGAIN." And then to Natalie's astonishment, his lips quirked into a smile, and   
he laughed. He looked at her and said, "You have given me the answer to a   
very old mystery. Thank you."   
  
Cocking an eyebrow at Nick, he smirked, "So that is why you were so reluctant   
to fly when I brought you across! HA!"   
  
And with that, he sprang into the air, his laughter trailing behind him as he   
flew back to the city. Both Nick and Nat were left looking into the night sky,   
one bemused and the other chagrined.   
  
Natalie looked at Nick. "Dinner's ready, dear." She turned around and went   
inside, humming a tune that Nick recognized.   
  
It was "Up on the Roof".   
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note: This came to mind as I was forced yet again to call my brother to   
clean out my gutters. I just can't bring myself to climb up on the roof.   
Fortunately Chuck doesn't have this problem. (Suburban dentists to the rescue!)   
  
Also, long ago my father voluntarily weeded my flower garden while I was at   
summer camp. Being an engineer, he assumed I would be as orderly as he and   
so pulled out all the non-linear plants. Needless to say my flower garden was   
rather sparse that summer. Had to love him for the effort, though. I still plant   
alyssum in his honor because he would ask me to put in "those white smelly   
flowers". Miss you, Dad.   
  
  
  



End file.
